Falling Slowly Back into Place
by Cat Francis
Summary: I went to see this musical in Toronto and I absolutely loved it. Until the ending. My shipping heart was not satisfied so I wrote an alternate/extended ending. Based on the musical version of the movie, but it wasn't an available category; song is "Falling Slowly" from the musical.


He had moved to New York to pursue a music career he had nearly given up on and a woman who had left him for the glamour of the Broadway stage. A month later, his music had fallen by the wayside in favour of making enough money to live on. A month later, the woman who had been so excited for his arrival had grown tired of his deepening dislike for the bustling city that never slowed down, never seemed to breathe. A month later was not what he had expected. Even if things had been working between the two of them, that might have been something to grasp onto and keep holding. But it just…wasn't. The time apart and a change of scenery didn't appear to be enough; there were some things that simply couldn't be fixed and this seemed to be one of them.

One morning, while tidying the tiny shared apartment, he came across one of the demo CDs he had brought from Ireland. He thought he had gotten rid of them all, but apparently not. He was about to toss it into the bin and forget about it entirely, but his hand stopped. With a faint smile, he recalled the hazy memory of that long, long day spent at the recording studio in Dublin. It had only been a month but it felt years — and worlds — away. Maybe it was worth a listen, if for nothing more than a good bout of nostalgia for the days when his dreams were boldly alive.

The delicate piano and his soft voice - though it had ceased to be his and simply was — filled the small room with a tender longing that he hadn't noticed before… 

_I don't know you_

_But I want you_

_All the more for that_

His old sentimentality came flooding back and he moved to turn it off, but his hand stopped at the sound of the woman's voice joining his… 

_Words fall through me_

_And always fool me_

_And I can't react_

Memories flooded through his mind: standing beside her beneath the stars and looking down on Dublin; her spinning Ivanka around the kitchen while her roommates sang and clapped out a song in Czech; her seriousness in greeting her beloved piano and in getting him to do the same; signing him up for open mic night and then beaming up at him with a smile he couldn't refuse; her insistence that he not leave his guitar behind; the fact that she had changed his life around in under a week… 

_And games that never amount_

_To more than they're meant_

_Will play themselves out_

A sudden and shocking glimpse of his life as seen from the outside: he had exchanged his home, his da, everything that was familiar for a child's fantasy of being a rock star in America and for a woman who had walked out on him to move halfway across the world chasing a soap bubble dream of fame and fortune. And a woman was left behind. A Czech woman in Ireland with a young daughter, who should not have had as much energy as she did, putting aside her own life to convince him to keep pursuing music… 

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_You've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You can make it now_

He sat up sharply. It was as if he were speaking to himself out of the past, urging him to correct his mistake. He never should have left Dublin; music just wasn't the same anymore without her beside him. He did have a choice: he could stay in New York with the woman he had loved once upon a time or he could go back home to the woman who had made his music — and his life —so much more than it had been. But it had to be now; he knew that if he waited nothing would change and he would fall back into the recent monotony of life. He had made the decision to move to New York almost overnight so why should this be any different? 

_Falling slowly_

_Eyes that know me_

_And I can't go back_

But what if she had worked things out with Ivanka's father? What if she was angry at him for chasing his girl to America in the first place? What if she simply wasn't interested in him anymore? He didn't care. He wanted — needed — to hear her voice, see her smile, watch her play, listen to her sing… 

_Moods that take me_

_And erase me_

_And I'm painted black_

He jumped from the couch, scrambling to find a piece of paper and a pen. He wasn't even sure he could afford the ticket back to Ireland, but it didn't seem to matter now. A hastily scrawled letter left on her pillow, trying to explain to her what he couldn't even describe to himself. Throwing things into the suitcase he had brought; there wasn't much to take... 

_You have suffered enough_

_At war with yourself_

_It's time that you won_

One last look around the tiny apartment. It had been an adventure, but there was nothing left for him now. His girlfriend was happy here in a way that he wasn't. He cared for her still, but knew that he no longer loved her, though he did once. Maybe she felt the same. Maybe not. It didn't matter... 

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You've made it now_

Flying. Landing. Ireland. Dublin. Apartment building. Knocking. Shouting in Czech. Little-girl footsteps. Door opening. Shouting. More footsteps. Guitar out. Strumming. Shock. Singing by himself. Silence. Panic. Singing. Relief. Singing together… 

_Falling slowly_

_Sing your melody_

_We'll sing it now_

They faded into silence and stared at each other for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say.

"You came back."

"Yeah. I did."

"Your girl—?"

"No. Your husband—?"

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Well, I am."

"Okay."

"Okay."

A pause.

"Would you like to come in?"

A nod.

A smile.


End file.
